


Operation Hot For Teacher

by AndreaLyn



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon Backstory, Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: There's a substitute standing at the front of her Italian classanda shadowing student teacher who can't seem to keep his eyes off Mr. Smith. Clearly, the only solution to a bored student is to set them up instead of focusing on her education.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 123
Kudos: 815





	Operation Hot For Teacher

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this piece of ID](https://64.media.tumblr.com/7f98c00cbd397f50079d5339a372af37/b91d05fb8e900021-53/s640x960/80ed06ad254a646d2fd869e9d1d8de109ebcbdac.png) that clocks Booker as a teacher in 2017. 
> 
> Thank you forever to Fontainebleau for the brit-picking, because while I pretend I know this kind of stuff, I really don’t.

There’s a new teacher standing at the front of her Italian class and a man she’s never seen before sitting in the empty seat beside her usual place, so that’s her Monday already looking more interesting. 

He’s got his head bowed, almost reverently, over a text that looks centuries old, fingers sliding over the pages of what Rebecca thinks is a really old edition of the Divine Comedy. Instantly, she can tell, the new teacher is _hot_ , even if his knit sweater is two sizes too big for him. Still, the thick black-rimmed reading glasses make his eyes look brilliant and bright, especially when strands of his hair fall forward. It’s a shame the sweater’s so big, because she’s pretty sure the jeans are _exactly_ the right size, if not a bit too tight.

She takes her usual seat, wary of the new guy beside her. 

He’s _way_ too old to be in sixth form, even if he seems to be trying to look cool and blend in with the other students -- though, the hoodie under a leather jacket and a pair of well-worn jeans does feel a bit try-hard. He’s got his head bowed over a notebook, almost a mirror of the new teacher’s and he’s sketching…

Rebecca glances up, then back at the paper, and when she does, she’s been caught.

“Do you think I got the nose right?”

Rebecca stammers, surprised to have been found out. “It’s…”

She doesn’t even get to say ‘it’s fine’ before he rips it out and starts anew. It catches their new teacher’s attention and he seems amused by the sudden chaos, even though other students are flooding the room and blocking his view. 

“You’re new, huh?” 

“Shadowing as a student teacher,” the man replies, sounding very _American_ to be in this class, so Rebecca’s guessing he couldn’t cut it over the pond. “Joseph,” he introduces himself and returns to scribbling in his notebook, just as the teacher raps his knuckles on the blackboard to get their attention. 

“ _Buongiorno a tutti_ , hello everyone,” he says, his voice accented in a way that Ms. Bromley could never hope to mimic. “My name is Mr. Smith, I’ll be with you for two weeks while your Ms. Bromley is out for a family emergency. I come highly recommended, but I don’t think you care,” he quips. “For two weeks, I will get you as prepared as I can for your upcoming exams. Yes?” 

Rebecca nods along with the other students in class, catching Joseph’s unyielding and fixed stare out of the corner of her eye. He’s interesting enough that people are still trying to figure out Mr. Smith, not tittering or whispering, but she knows it’s only a matter of time before the gossip starts about the fact that there’s not just one, but two new men in the class all of a sudden.

“Good!” Mr. Smith says, closing his book and lighting up. “I thought we’d start with some poetry. I’m a romantic, at heart,” he says, his eyes cutting across the class and landing, seemingly, right by Rebecca. 

Instantly, she flushes, glad she hadn’t been texting or she’d have definitely been caught. His attention lingers a moment before he swipes a piece of chalk and turns to the blackboard (that’s _never_ used, how old is this guy? He can’t be more than thirty, but maybe he’s one of those vintage hipster types) to start scrawling in barely-legible writing. 

The lesson goes from poetry to literature, with a brief stop in the middle to talk about the evolution of Italian etymology. It’s sort of boring, mainly because Rebecca has never cared about Latin and Mr. Smith seems really passionate about it, even though this is Italian and not Latin (maybe Mr. Smith’s just jealous he can’t be subbing for that language).

“Chapters twelve tonight, please,” he tells them. “Tomorrow, we spend the day with grammar.”

The class groans, which Mr. Smith seems to have expected given his rueful smile.

“I cannot woo you with poetry every day,” he replies. “We will make Italians of all of you yet. Chapter twelve,” he reiterates, dismissing them with a broad wave of his hand, intent on sending them all off. Most of the other students are eager to get out of there. They’re eighteen, they’ve got better places to be than in class. 

Though, class is looking a lot better, if only temporarily.

Their new teacher is wildly easy on the eyes. Rebecca isn’t upset about getting to stare at his stormy-blue eyes for the next two weeks, and she definitely enjoys seeing the way his fingers keep diving into the soft strands of his hair to tuck it just behind the ears of his glasses.

She’s not hot for teacher, but she deserves something nice to look at. 

“So are you going to be here every day too?” Rebecca asks Joseph as she starts haphazardly collecting her books to make a hasty exit. 

Joseph closes his book, gesturing to the front of the class. “Every day that he’s here, I’m here.” 

Rebecca sneaks one last look at the way Joseph seems to be eyeing Mr. Smith on their way out, but then he walks off whistling like he’s in an amazing mood without even stopping to _talk_ to Mr. Smith.

She can’t blame him for approving. 

Mr. Smith is _way_ better to look at than Ms. Bromley. It’s going to be an excellent two weeks ahead.

* * *

Rebecca doesn’t have any of her best mates in Italian with her, but luckily lunch is right after class and she’s planning to use them as a sounding board. It’s Friday, and the first week of Mr. Smith’s time with them is already up. In that time, he’s managed to make future conditional verbs sound really sexy and even gave them a dramatic reading from the Divine Comedy. 

The whole time, Joseph couldn’t seem to take his eyes off him. Rebecca’s seen those kinds of looks before. She’s pretty sure she didn’t _stop_ staring like that at Liam MacDonald the whole time she was sixteen. 

“I think the shadowing teacher’s got a crush on my Italian substitute,” she shares over lunch while they’re swapping pieces of their meals. “I thought he was taking notes during the class, but I got a peek at his book and they’re all drawings of him.”

“Is he hot?”

“Who? Joseph?” Rebecca mumbles. “ _Yeah_ , in this gorgeous and sexy rough and tumble way, even if he’s way too old for me.”

“No, you knob, the teacher,” Anna scoffs, rolling her eyes.

He really is. 

“His eyes are _dreamy_ ,” Rebecca admits. “And you should see his arse in the jeans, even if I don’t think he knows how to dress properly to show it off. His sweaters are always way too big, even if they look so soft, like they’re hand-knit. He’s very Italian looking,” she says, which makes sense in her head. He’s hot, even if he’s got that nose, and he’s probably way too old for her. He’s got to be at least thirty, which is a bit much, even for her. 

“Does he seem into the student teacher? This Joseph guy?”

That’s the part Rebecca’s not so sure of. Mr. Smith’s got this whole thousand-yard-stare thing going on where he keeps all his emotions bottled up so tightly. In only five days, she’s learned that the best feeling is when you earn one of Mr. Smith’s tiny smiles of approval, which is practically a bonfire’s worth of celebrating with anyone else.

“He doesn’t seem bothered by him,” Rebecca concedes. “C’mon, help me out,” she pleads with Anna. “I’m _bored_. Mr. Smith’s nice to look at, but verbs are still verbs and I’m sick of conjugations.”

She’d much rather think about conjugal visits between Joseph and Mr. Smith, which would be a complete coup if she could manage to get her sub and the student teacher together in only two weeks.

The challenge appeals to Anna too, she can tell. 

“All right, fine, I’m in,” Anna relents. 

Rebecca smacks the table to celebrate, even though they don’t even have a plan yet. It doesn’t matter. It just means that she’s going to spend the next week occupied with romance and not a romantic language. “I knew you’d help,” Rebecca crows with delight. 

“My boyfriend’s in that class with you. I’ll see if he can round up some mates and help get some background recon to get your student teacher and the sexy sub together.” 

Rebecca grins, knowing that her parents would tell her that she ought to spend more time revising and less time trying to set up a pair of adults she’ll probably never see again, but she’s never been one to take the easy road.

“You think Mr. Smith is into guys?” Anna asks.

“I don’t think you have to be into guys to like Joseph,” Rebecca scoffed. “He’s hot enough to turn anyone.” 

And, he is. 

For all that Mr. Smith doesn’t seem to know how to dress, Joseph more than makes up for it. His neatly shaved beard makes him look a bit of a rogue, but his curls are always so nicely tended, and his jeans are clearly designer. She’s also pretty sure that he wears exclusively Ed Hardy tops, though she also thinks that’s his attempt to blend in. 

“Operation Hot for Teacher,” Anna announces. “I love it,” she says with glee. “Let’s make someone _very_ happy.”

* * *

It’s Tuesday when they put their plan into motion, mainly because they spend all of Monday working on endless boring translations that don’t really leave Rebecca in much of a mood to set anyone up in romantic bliss. Her motivation especially dies when Mr. Smith seems vindictive about the assignment, like he’s lulled them all into thinking he’s nice with the poetry only to come at their heels with a knife made up of endless pages of translation. Come Tuesday, though, it’s perfect because they’re practicing conversations amongst friends and family in nice small groups. 

Andrew, Anna’s boyfriend, catches her eye and winks to let Rebecca know he’s starting. They’re still broken out into their groups, but Andrew’s hand is the only one in the air.

“Yes?” Mr. Smith calls on him. “Personal? Or question for the whole class.”

 _Both_ , thinks Rebecca smugly, eager to see how this plays out. 

“I think for everyone,” Andrew feigns. “How do you ask someone if they have a girlfriend?”

He takes a moment to consider, almost like he needs the time to think about it (as if he doesn’t speak Italian fluently), then offers, “ _Hai una ragazza?_ ” 

“And? Do you?”

That seems to get the attention of the other groups, whose conversations have fallen into a hush. It’s absolutely not normal for any teacher to answer these questions and it feels a bit like everyone’s holding their breath to see whether Mr. Smith is actually going to reply. Even Joseph looks _extremely_ interested, which is a good thing. 

Rebecca would really hate to go to all this trouble only for him to ignore it. 

Mr. Smith smiles mysteriously, and Rebecca knows this isn’t art history, but that’s a bloody Mona Lisa smile if ever she saw one. “ _Ho qualcos’altro_. I have something else.”

The reaction’s instant. There’s some whooping and hollering and shocked whispers near her. Rebecca didn’t actually think that’d _work_. She would’ve thought he’d just brush it off with a comment about how they’re not supposed to share personal information with their students. 

Clearly, Mr. Smith is new to this.

Joseph smirks beside her, clearly interested beyond his sketches now. “Boyfriend?”

Something like amusement crosses Mr. Smith’s face, an inside joke Rebecca doesn’t get. “Something more.” 

Rebecca isn’t sure why Joseph looks so pleased by that. After all, her dreams of setting them up just got dashed. Why the fuck would Joseph be so _pleased_ about the fact that Mr. Smith looks dreamy as he tells them about a man that he’s been with ‘as long as I can remember’, who is brave and kind and thoughtful.

Andrew catches her eye and mouths ‘sorry’, knowing that their plan is over. 

Rebecca’s not down and out just yet.

“Is that what you like, then? Brave and kind and thoughtful?” she pipes up. She knows she’s pushing. Any moment, he might shut this down and remember the rules. 

Mr. Smith gives a frustrated little huff, checking his watch. “You’re all supposed to be focusing on your work.”

“It’s three minutes until the end of class,” Rebecca protests. “Come on, tell us,” she encourages. She sees Joseph lean forward, putting down his notebook to focus on Mr. Smith with a keen eye. 

It seems like maybe she’s not the only one trying to get some background, here. 

Mr. Smith wrinkles up his nose in a way that’s actually _precious_ , sliding his reading glasses atop his head after he scrubs his fingers through his hair, hemming and hawing like he’s not so sure about it. Given the way the whole class is egging him on, Rebecca knows he’s fighting a losing battle.

“Two minutes left,” Mr. Smith sighs. “Yes, fine.” His eyes slide across the room, landing on Rebecca in the back, before he perches on the edge of the desk, one knee bent up as he rests his elbow on it. “Two minutes is not enough to talk about my love. All the poetry you read for this class can hold no candle to the words I hear, or the written notes I receive from him. I am blessed, constantly,” he raves, his gaze going distant almost like he’s thinking about whoever it is that’s won his heart. “It’s the luckiest thing in the world to have someone who truly understands you and I think I have found it.”

“No ring on your finger, though,” pipes up Joseph.

Honestly, Rebecca should have invited him into the plans for this operation, because he’s doing most of the work.

Mr. Smith lets out a huff of laughter. “No? Is a ring the only thing that represents two souls coming together as one? Is a certificate a way to tell the universe that you are one half of a whole?” 

Rebecca can see Joseph absently twining his fingers around the necklace chain on his neck, rubbing his thumb over the pendant.

“I am married in the eyes of what is important. Family, friends, God,” he says, lifting his wrist to check his watch. “And now, I am married to the idea of you all doing your work before you come back to my class!” he says, just as the class is over. “Out, all of you, and no more wasting my time prying into my love life,” he warns with a waggle of his finger. 

He’s _married_.

Rebecca’s whole plan just fell apart before her eyes. Well, she got a few days of excitement out of the idea of getting Joseph together with his _obvious_ crush. 

“Sorry,” she tells Joseph, collecting her things in a hurry to get to lunch with her mates and update them on the news. 

Joseph, strangely, seems completely unflappable. He’s collected his notebooks in his hands, his eyes still fixed on Mr. Smith. “I’m not,” he says cryptically. 

_O-kay then, nutter_ , she thinks, and books it out of there, not paying any mind to the fact that Joseph is lingering like he doesn’t intend to leave the room at all.

* * *

She’s forgotten her bloody textbook again. 

Her mother always gets on her for forgetting her shit, but despite her insistence that she’ll remember, she keeps forgetting. The only thing she really cares about is her phone, but that means she has a tendency to leave everything else behind. Today, it’s her textbook.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” she tells the group at the lunch table, doubling back through the halls to grab the book before it ends up swiped by someone else in the first class after lunch. 

Rebecca doesn’t bother announcing herself as she opens the closed door to the classroom (which is a bit strange, it’s not usually shut, though maybe it’s just because no one’s in there this hour). There’s her book, sitting on the back desk, right where she’d left it. Shaking her head at herself, she heads in that direction, but not before she realizes that she is very much not alone. 

Mr. Smith is sitting on the desk, blocked by a man’s body standing in between his legs with his back to Rebecca. Even without a clear look at him, she recognizes him from sitting next to him for nearly two weeks.

It looks like Joseph’s managed to make a move and Mr. Smith is all over it.

Poor ‘something else’, thinks Rebecca. Whoever they are, they’ve been tossed out the window pretty quickly as soon as Joseph flashed those sparkling eyes on Mr. Smith. 

The door’s at the back of the class and Rebecca’s desk is _right_ there, so she could grab her book and just run, but she’s way too curious about the fact that it looks like Mr. Smith’s got both his legs wrapped around Joseph’s back, his heel tugging him in for…

Oh, they’re definitely snogging. Mr. Smith’s got a tie on today, and Joseph’s fingers keep brushing over it, almost like he’s considering the benefits of yanking on it. He’s massaging Mr. Smith’s temples with his fingers when he finally eases back from the kiss.

“You keep wearing those glasses,” Joseph chides gently. “They’re making your head hurt.”

“You told me you liked my glasses.”

Rebecca stifles her snort at the petulant tone Mr. Smith takes. She’s creeping towards the door, eager to make it out, but she’s caught when her phone pings with a vibrating notification, giving her away with textbook in hand and clearly gaping. 

Mr. Smith ducks out from behind Joseph, catching sight of Rebecca. He smiles, calmly, and doesn’t seem too shocked to see her. “Hello Rebecca,” he says, calling Joseph’s attention to her. Joseph winks at her, holding a finger to his lip like it’s a secret. 

“Mr. Smith,” she stammers, feeling like she’s stumbled into something she’s not supposed to see. She lifts up her textbook, almost like that’ll defend her. “I didn’t see anything,” she rushes to insist, as if she knows whoever it is that Mr. Smith is married to, and he might worry about getting in trouble.

She’s not going to be the reason he’s on the couch tonight. 

“Don’t forget to do your work,” is all Mr. Smith says calmly, tugging Joseph back in towards him. “ _Arrivederci_.”

She whirls to make her escape, hearing Joseph laugh under his breath and mutter, “You ridiculous tease,” under his breath. 

She never should’ve gotten involved with her teachers, because she’s suddenly in _way_ too deep over her head and she’s practically drowning to get out, but textbook in hand, she closes the door behind her to make a hasty escape. 

That’s it. No more meddling in love lives, she decides. Let this be her lesson.

* * *

“You’ll never believe it,” Rebecca announces, dropping her books on the table as she waves her hands in front of everyone’s phones to get their attention. “Remember my sexy temporary Italian teacher? It turns out, he’s getting it on with the student teacher! Poor ‘something else’.”

Or, wait.

Rebecca frowns as certain other pieces of the puzzle seem to come together. “Unless they were already together.” It had been a bit strange that Joseph turned up the very day that Mr. Smith started subbing. Maybe this has all been some sort of weird sex game where they pretended they didn’t know each other. 

Next week, it’ll be back to Ms. Bromley, which is a shame. Rebecca was really liking having some eye candy to look at. Over the two weeks, Mr. Smith’s fashion sense has improved, even. Those too-big knit sweaters had given way to some gorgeous cardigan sweaters that looked really nice when he paused in the middle of a lesson to push up the sleeves to his elbows, and the day he’d worn that waistcoat over the rolled-up button down with the buttons open revealing his collarbone and a hint of chest hair?

She’s going to think about that one for a while. 

It’s almost worth walking in on what she’s beginning to think had been some odd version of a marital-spice-up. 

“So you didn’t even have to set them up?” Anna asks, reaching over to push her bag of chips towards her. “They’re already together? Wait,” she says. “Was this Joseph guy even shadowing or was he just stalking his boyfriend or husband or whatever?”

“Who knows?” Rebecca says, picking up a chip to wave it about. “You should’ve seen them, they were _hot_. Mr. Smith was wearing a tie for the first time today and when I walked in on them, Joseph couldn’t keep his hands off the knot.” She shakes her head, trying to figure it out. “It was a bit weird,” she goes on. “Why sit there for two weeks and sketch your boyfriend while playing out like you’ve got a crush on the teacher?”

Anna snorts. “Some people are weird, Bex,” she reminds her. “Besides, I’ll put up with some weird courtship ritual any day over European History with Mr. Booker. I’m so tired of writing counter-arguments against Napoleon.” 

“He really is obsessed, isn’t he?” Rebecca says, happy to move on to the next sad sack. Not only is he one of those weird men obsessed with a _specific_ part of history, Mr. Booker’s always got that sort of wine-smell about him like he barely remembered to stop drinking before coming to teach. “All right,” she decides, “new mission. We’re going to find a way to cheer up Mr. Booker and prevent yet another week of Napoleon rants.”

“Operation Waterloo?” Anna suggests with a grin.

“It’s on,” Rebecca confirms, eager to move on to another mission.

After all, the first went perfectly, even if she barely had anything to do with it. How hard can it be to cheer up a single man and avoid another essay on Napoleon?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always around on [tumblr](https://andrea-lyn.tumblr.com) to talk about these beautiful idiots.


End file.
